


Something About Perspectivism

by maudlindebauchery



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Body Swap, Bodyswap, Everyone Is Gay, Freaky Fic Friday, Freaky Friday - Freeform, Grantaire and Enjolras switch bodies, M/M, Modern AU, Modern Era, Modern les mis, body switch, gay pining, the rest of les amis are pretty grateful tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22093711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maudlindebauchery/pseuds/maudlindebauchery
Summary: Enjolras and Grantaire need to learn to appreciate each other. What better way to do that than the strange, hyper-empathetic trope where two people switch bodies? It's all Jehan's fault.
Relationships: Enjolras & Grantaire (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	Something About Perspectivism

**Author's Note:**

> hi! the amis are obviously modern here, and they Are french but i'm not fucking with the details of a french university system. therefore, my fudged details are pretty americanized. everyone is gay, jehan is nonbinary, and pls leave comments/kudos!

"Christ, I was trying to say that–– look, this is _really_ interesting––" Combeferre continued his feeble attempt to gain the focus of his friends' conversation. This was very difficult given the choruses of bickering and laughter that were echoing through the restaurant in which they sat. A large part of him felt like going back to his apartment and tucking in with a good book, a warm drink, and a blanket. However, he learned a lot in his class _Ethics for a Broken World_ that morning, and would rather be damned than let all of his thinking go to waste.

  
Enjolras was standing up –– yes, in the middle of a restaurant (thank God the waitress had looked over the large, ill-assorted group of students for a moment before seating them at a back corner table) –– and was very nearly shouting down a tipsy Grantaire. Long, white fingers gripped hard on the edge of the table, and Enjolras leaned precariously over the one seat between himself and Grantaire, which was occupied by a horrified Marius. "What do you mean, _boring?_ My classes are not _boring_ , Grantaire–– especially not Intro to Peace and Conflict Studies! That _MATTERS!_ How do you not realize that that is a class which actually _matters?!_ "

  
Grantaire snorted, taking a small swig of Merlot before answering Enjolras with about the most infuriating gesture the blond could imagine: a shrug. "Not my cup of tea, Apollo. You know that. I know that. Why dwell on it?"

  
Enjolras banged a palm on the table, rattling some silverware and glasses, and earning him a variety of glares from his friends –– specifically Combeferre, who was pushing his glasses up his nose, running his tongue over his front teeth, and looking as though he was holding in something very large so it would not escape. This hardly lasted long, though. With an awkward cough to try and gain Enjolras's wrathful attention, Combeferre said pointedly, "Drop it. Please. We all know how R feels about Polisci, and how you feel about Painting majors –– not to mention _I_ have been trying to tell you all what I learned in my Ethics class for the better half of twenty minutes, and _you've_ chosen to ignore me! None of us are suited for each other's majors, and that's fine in my book. He's right. Why argue?"

For once, Enjolras was silent. It wasn't resigned silence, necessarily –– it looked more like he was trying very hard to find a suitable retort and coming up empty each time. He also looked embarrassed, slowly sinking back into his chair, and avoiding eye contact with Combeferre for a few moments. Grantaire was pleased to see he looked rather pink, too. "My apologies." He finally mumbled.

Combeferre smirked, and went back to looking through his menu, with only an occasional glance at Enjolras to see how his friend was faring after being told off. Such an event _was_ quite rare.

After a thing like that, most of the students seated at the table would have elected to stay quiet, let the disagreement simmer down, and ease back into their conversations. Grantaire, however, was _not_ most of the students seated at the table. He was obnoxious. Not to mention, he couldn't stop thinking about the hypocrisy of the point Enjolras had been arguing.

  
"So, why _does_ Polisci matter more than Painting, hm?"

There came several groans, multiple hushed _"Grantaire!"s_ , and a low _"oh my God"_ from Combeferre. Much to everyone's disappointment, Enjolras took the bait. His temper was admirable if you weren't on the receiving end of it – that was much of the reason why so many of the Amis admired Enjolras. However, his passion also led him to stand up in restaurants, grab Marius Pontmercy by the shoulders to say _"we're switching seats"_ to which Marius responded _"uhh, okay!"_ , switch all respective utensils and dishes between place settings, sit down beside Grantaire, and spin around sideways in the chair to properly face him for what could only be described as a lecture. Grantaire almost laughed, unlike the rest of his friends, who all wore expressions that fell somewhere between exasperation and mortification.

"Grantaire."

"Yes, Enjolras? Hello."

"Is that a _real_ question that you have?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why does Polisci matter more than _Painting?_ You actually don't know the answer to that?"

Grantaire scoffed, "Lovely to know you actually think it matters more. Thanks for that."

"It's an unquestionable fact, Grantaire. Merely looking at the average salary of a Painting BFA compared to a Political Sci––"

"So now you're using income as a measure of worth? That's really rich."

" _GRANTAIRE, POLITICAL SCIENCE IS WHAT MAKES THE WORLD GO ROUND. I'M SORRY IF I SOUND DISRESPECTFUL, BUT YOU CANNOT DISRESPECT THAT WHICH BUILDS THE FOUNDATION OF ALL SOCIETIES! IT IS A LIFE OR DEATH MATTER, HOLDING THE LIVES OF YOUR CITIZENS IN YOUR VERY HANDS! YOU MUST BE REASONABLE ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT NOBODY CARES WHAT A––_ "

"Nobody cares what a painter does?" Grantaire stiffened. Immediately it was evident that Enjolras knew he had gone too far.

"No, no, I–– _obviously_ people care. But, it just doesn't–– well, it doesn't make a difference! Sorry!" And he threw his hands up, shaking his head, waiting for Grantaire to agree with what Enjolras believed to be undeniable fact.

  
Unfortunately, Grantaire did not give him the pleasure of that desired reaction, not even remotely. Instead, he turned to Jehan, looked them in the eye, and asked–– or _demanded_ , "Switch with me."

  
Jehan frowned, looking between the two with all the disappointment of a mother observing her petty children. Wordlessly, they began switching utensils, and put themself as a blockade between their two friends, all the while gritting their teeth. Once Grantaire had sank into his new seat, he downed the rest of his wine like it was water without so much as a grimace, flagged a waitress, and requested a full bottle.

  
Enjolras rolled his eyes. "Grantaire, don't––"

  
Grantaire's only response was his middle finger, outstretched behind Jehan's chair, coming far too close to hitting Enjolras in the face.

  
Enjolras shook his head. His only retort was a quiet, " _Unbelievable._ " However, he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. Plus, the rest of the Amis were on edge after his outbursts. If he kept up in such a way, he had no doubt that he would ruin their dinner, and they didn't have casual social events like this nearly enough. He also imagined it wasn't as though staying would be worth it if everybody was upset with him. It seemed only logical to push back his chair, pull on his coat, set the proper amount of bills down beside his plate, and take off.

  
Combeferre noticed what Enjolras was doing by the time he had pushed his chair back. "Enjolras, what are you––? _Come on._ "

  
Enjolras shook his head simply. "There's no reason for me to ruin anyone's night. I think I've done enough damage. But, I'll see you in English on Tuesday. Have a good night." With that, he strode out of the restaurant.

  
The absence of their leader left something to be desired among the rest of the Amis. It was typical for Enjolras to avoid some social events altogether, but never for him to leave in the middle of one. Grantaire shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling incredibly responsible for this turn in the night. "Er–– what were you going to talk about, Ferre? With your... uh... Ethics class and whatnot?"

  
Combeferre shrugged halfheartedly, took a sip of his water, and looked around the table for some sort of silent permission. "Well... it's really not all that important. Perspectivism. _I_ found it interesting, who knows if it really is."

  
The least Grantaire could do was entertain the notion. He lifted his glass, took another swig, and prompted Ferre to go on good-naturedly. "I live and die for perspectives –– three-point is a bitch. Tell us all about it."

  
Combeferre laughed. "Right, well, it's not what you're thinking of. It's more just the idea that truth values cannot be determined without evaluating multiple perspectives. It really is as simple as it sounds, but the catch is that most people forget to think about it. So many of us go around in pursuit of objective truths, and of course those exist, they always must, but we forget that some truths are made by individuals. That's what Nietzsche said. He called it a rejection of objective metaphysics. Like, you look at a mountain from far away and see a beautiful landscape. You appreciate it. But then, once you climb the mountain, it's essentially –– ah, _terrible_. Multiple perspectives, see?"

  
Jehan raised their hand. Combeferre laughed. "Yeah, Jehan?"

  
"Make it human, please?"

  
"Right. It's not revolutionary, I'm serious. It's just... the idea that everybody should step out of their own shoes more often. Kinda."

  
And Jehan looked impressed with that. They just smiled, gave a nod, and contemplated the concept.

\---

The moon was full, the Parisian night was warm, and Jehan had recently become fascinated with what they called _occult arts_. They counted themself lucky to have as brilliant a friend as Combeferre –– one who brought philosophy to the attention of the rest of their friends, made them think, made them _better_. Jehan liked to think their own positivity did something relatively similar. All they could ever hope for was the opportunity to make their friends' lives better. So, as they thumbed through an old spell book they had bought at a market down the street from their apartment, they told themself that was what this was doing. Combeferre had planted the seed, this was merely the sunshine. Or, perhaps, healthy genetic modification to induce _quick,_ beautiful growth. Yes, that was more like it. Grantaire and Enjolras were too stubborn to grow from only sunshine, anyhow. Maybe with enough moon-charged peppermint and rosemary, and the right incantation, something could be done to nudge them along. 

They heard their apartment door jingle, and smiled, not looking up. "Love?"

Montparnasse kicked off thick-soled black boots and set them by the door with charmingly uncharacteristic precision. "Ah, you're home. I'm exhausted, and I _missed_ you–– my _God_ , I missed you."

Jehan grinned. "It's been two days!"

"Yes, and I managed to miss you anyways! I brought you something, come see?"

"Just a minute, I will–– and I love you!" They looked behind them to see what the something could be, and sighed in ecstasy at the image of Montparnasse, all in black, with a bouquet of some small yellow flowers. "You know me too well."


End file.
